The Stranger Who Lit Me Up at the Show novel · Chapter 1 of 12
Chapter 1: Look Straight Ahead
"Oh, daddy, don't keep going. I'm gonna come."
She said it in a low voice, her mouth almost pressed against my chest, and the crowd swallowed the rest.
I had my hand under her skirt and I didn't know how it got there.
Actually, I did know.
She'd led me there.
It all started ten minutes earlier, on the floor of the Magno Auditorium, with three thousand students on their feet and a bass that made your ribs shake.
I was the sound engineer.
My job was to walk through the crowd with headphones on, to hear the show the way the audience did.
They call it listening from the floor, and it's almost always boring.
That night was the university's Retro Night, everyone dressed up like the 2000s.
In front of me was a girl in a pleated schoolgirl skirt, white knee-high socks, and a black ponytail.
She was short, with a straight back and strong legs.
I didn't look at her more than usual.
Then the band hit the first chorus and the crowd moved like a wave.
Someone shoved me from behind and the girl fell back against my body.
"Sorry," I said, hands up. "Sorry, I got pushed."
She didn't move.
She stayed pressed against me, her ass against my pelvis, and I felt the heat of her body through the fabric.
Then, very slowly, she pushed back.
Once.
Twice.
I went rigid.
She tilted her head toward me, without turning around, and spoke over the music.
"Don't apologize."
Her voice was hoarse, calm, the kind you remember.
"Look straight ahead," she continued. "Don't turn around. If you turn, I'm leaving."
"What?"
"It's a game. Your turn to obey."
My mouth went dry.
I tried to see her face, and she put her hand on my cheek and firmly turned me back toward the stage.
"Ahead."
"Okay," I said. "Ahead."
I felt her smile even though I couldn't see it.
She rubbed against me, slowly, to the beat of the bass, and my cock hardened against her ass in two seconds.
She noticed.
She let out a little laugh.
She took my right hand by the wrist.
She guided it down, over her waist, to the edge of her skirt.
She slipped it underneath.
I felt her warm thighs, the elastic of her socks, skin smooth with sweat.
"Higher," she whispered.
I went up.
My fingers found a fabric so thin it was almost nonexistent, and beneath it something warm and completely soaked.
I lost my breath.
"God," I murmured.
"Mhm," she said. "That."
She pushed her ass against my hand, and my fingers slid over the soaked fabric.
She was so wet that her panties clung to her lips.
I touched her through it, up and down, and she rested her head against my chest.
"Like that," she said. "Slowly."
Around us, three thousand people screamed and jumped.
No one was looking at us.
No one could see my hand under her skirt, or my chest rising, or the way she was grinding against me.
I pushed the elastic aside and ran a finger along her bare slit.
She flinched.
I slid a finger in, slowly, all the way.
She was tight, hot, and she closed around it like a mouth.
"Oh, daddy," she moaned, drowned out by the music. "Like that."
I added a second.
With my thumb I found her clit, swollen, hard, and circled it in small circles.
She moved her hips against my hand to the beat of the drums.
She put a hand on my forearm to set the rhythm, faster, slower, again.
She knew exactly what she wanted.
That drove me crazy.
"Look straight ahead," she reminded me, between gasps.
"I'm looking."
"No, you're not."
She was right.
I was looking at the black hair on the back of her neck, the sweat between her shoulder blades, the red ribbon on her blouse.
She laughed and rubbed harder.
My fingers were wet up to the wrist.
"Don't keep going," she said suddenly, tensing. "I'm gonna come."
My fingers went still for a second.
"Don't you dare stop," she growled. "That's just what you say. Keep going."
I kept going.
I pushed my fingers deeper, curling them upward, and rubbed her clit with my thumb without mercy.
She bit her arm to keep from screaming, trembling against my chest.
Her whole body contracted around my fingers, once, twice, three times.
The bass hit a final chord and the crowd roared.
She came right in that roar, her back arched and her head on my shoulder, and no one in the whole auditorium knew.
I didn't stop holding her either.
I felt her go limp, panting, leaning on me.
My cock throbbed against her ass like it was about to burst.
She knew it.
She squeezed her ass against me, once, slow, and let out a hoarse little laugh.
"You owe me one," I whispered.
"Maybe," she said.
Then the auditorium lights came on all at once, white, cruel, and the crowd opened up.
I blinked.
When I looked down, the girl was gone.
I searched for her among the heads, among the skirts, among the costumes.
A black ponytail was disappearing toward the exit, and then it was gone.
I stood still, my fingers still wet and my pants about to explode.
There was something in my right palm.
I opened it.
It was a black hair tie, with a tiny silver moth hanging from it.
And on the back, written in gold marker on the elastic, there was a phone number with a single digit crossed out.
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